The English Year - 32. The Bitch Is Back

Instead of continuing along Gentleman’s Green to the alley that led up to my frat house, I crossed down to Washington St., the center of campus, and walked into town, through downtown Clifton Hill and straight to the red bricked fraternity houses on Greek Row.

Sigma Chi stood in the middle of the five majestic white pillared houses to the right of Greek Row, commonly referred to as Red Square. I walked up the three steps that led to Sigma Chi’s front door, opened it, and stepped right through.

The place wasn’t as busy as I expected for the first Saturday night back on campus. A lot of folks must have been getting in early Sunday morning, because as I crossed the foyer and walked up the two flights of stairs to Nick Person’s bedroom, I noticed a distinct absence of very many bodies in the house.

I knocked on Nick’s door, heard some music turn off, and waited a second.

“Who is…it?” My shirtless boyfriend answered the door, clearly expecting someone else. From the look on his face, he was happy to see me. I smiled back at him, pushed him into his bedroom, and closed the door behind us.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, stepping back and giving me a wicked smile.

“I need to talk to you,” I replied, standing an arm’s length away from him. Nick nodded.

“Okay… should I be worried?”

“No, but you were right. I was distracted earlier. I’ve been distracted all day, and you deserve an explanation. If you’re going to go through this trial run of a relationship with me, then you deserve an explanation. And I don’t want you to think that I’m telling you this to get it off my chest, to make myself feel better or something like that. I’m telling you this because I want you to help me. Help me out of it.”

I stopped for air, and studied Nick’s face for the first time since I walked into the room. He looked at me like he’d known me my entire life. I took a deep breath, and felt more at ease.

“What do you need to tell me Corbin?”

“He called,” I replied, deadpan, ripping off the band aid. “Pete called me this morning, and I didn’t answer, but he left a voice mail. And I listened to it right before I got on my flight, and it fucked with me. He always… he finds new ways to fuck with me, you know?”

“Mmmhmm,” Nick replied, taking a step back and sitting down on the edge of his bed. “What did he say in his voicemail?”

Continuing to feel at ease, continuing to relax and feel comfortable with Nick, I set down my gym bag and sat next to him on the bed.

“He said that he missed me. He said that he wasn’t sure in what capacity, but he wanted me back in his life… he wanted to try… I don’t know. He doesn’t know. I just… I… I don’t know.”

“And after you listened to his voice mail? What were you thinking about?”

“You want the truth?”

“You came here to tell me the truth, right?” I wondered for a second what Nick was thinking. Here I was essentially telling him that the guy that came before him was still there. His baggage was still very much there, and so was Nick. Not running for the hills, anchoring me to the ground, keeping me from running away.

I nodded.

I swallowed and nodded, and once again, I ripped off the band aid. Nick sat there and listened as I told him that for that entire day, I had been conflicted. I told him that I had spent our entire trip together wondering if I should break up with him, and take a Brit up on his unknown offer.

I told him that I considered telling him that I didn’t want to be tied down, that I considered offering some explanation that made me sound like the bad guy, but would get me off the hook in our relationship. I told him that for several hours that day, since listening to that voicemail, I wanted out of our new relationship.

“But you didn’t break up with me,” he said, sounding skeptical. I wasn’t sure what I detected in his voice. Was it relief? Was it a twinge of anger? Sadness? Jealousy? Did I have the capacity to make Nick Persons jealous? “You’re not here to break up with me.”

“I didn’t. And I’m not. Because I like you, a lot. And I know I was distracted, but once I got in the car, listening to you, and being with you went right back to being easy. All those complications, all of that wondering… I just… it isn’t there with you. And I like that. It’s refreshing.”

“It’s boring,” Nick interrupted. I turned away from my hands and looked him in the eye.

“What?”

“You find it boring,” Nick repeated. “I know your type, Corbin. Guys like you think that something steady and easy like this is boring. You live for the chase. You love the idea of love, but you can’t handle it when it’s right in front of you.”

Nick spoke slowly. As he explained what he meant, he leaned into me, not letting go of my gaze, and not breaking his chain of thought for a second. As he came closer, imposing himself onto me, I leaned back, so that I was laying on my back in Nick’s bed with him hovering on top of me.

“Guys like you are addicted to the pain, Corbin. The uncertainty of a guy, straight or gay, who doesn’t immediately want you back… you can’t handle a guy that does. A guy that wants you back. You want complications. You thrive on them, because everything else… is boring.”

I listened and watched as Nick peeled of my shirt, forcing my hands high above my head. As he continued to speak, he undid the tie front of my shorts, ever so slowly, causing a wave to run through my entire body. His words were complicated. They made sense to me on every level, and yet he was still there, undressing me, seducing me with his eyes, all the while declaring what we both knew to be the problem in our infantile relationship.

“But guess what, Corbin?” he leaned into me, his lips on my neck, not kissing me, but breathing down lightly, causing the hair there to stand on edge in anticipation of a kiss. His chest, rising and falling slowly, caught the rhythm of my own breathing. His pelvis found its way directly between my outstretched legs.

“What?” I breathed, barely uttering the word.

“Safe doesn’t have to be boring. Easy doesn’t have to be stale, trust me. Love… love doesn’t have to be complicated to be exciting. It doesn’t have to hurt to come out right, Corbin. Trust me,” he said. By now his lips were a hair away from mine. I opened my mouth, begging for a kiss, but none came.

“Do you trust me?” Nick asked. I let myself go. In that moment, for the first time, I let myself breath him in. I wasn’t pretending to push the Brit away. I wasn’t pretending to forget about those other guys. I was there, helpless, free.

“I do,” I exhaled.

“Good,” Nick smiled, his lips still dangerously close to mine. “Because I promise to never bore you… ever.”

I nodded. And then finally, agonizingly, Nick kissed me. He rubbed the lengths of our bodies together and I instantly felt how hard both of us were. It was like I had been suspended in space and time, and Nick had finally cut the cord. I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him in, and kissed him like I meant.

“Make love to me,” Nick whispered. I sighed in his mouth.

“What?”

“I want you to make love to me,” Nick said, sitting up and slipping his own sweats off.

“You want me to…”

“Fuck me, Corbin,” he said, pulling at the elastic of my sweat pants. He had to pull them up quite a ways to work the elastic away from my tent, but within seconds, Nick had us both naked. “Don’t you want to?”

“I do, but I thought that…”

“What? What else did you assume about me? That I’m a top?”

“Frankly, yes,” I answered, unsure why we were still talking and not fucking. I watched as Nick effortlessly crossed his room and fished a condom and a canister out of his computer desk drawer.

“What did we decide about assumptions?” he asked. He knelt down in front of me, rolled the condom over my cock, and without breaking our eye contact, straddled my waist, reached behind himself with two fingers full of lube, and slid down onto my shaft.

As far as mind erasers went, Nick Persons was the best in the business, and he knew it. He had me, I decided. My day of turmoil, my full day of indecision was decided.

I couldn’t be friends with Pete. It wasn’t possible. I would fall back into my feelings for him, and I would in turn jeopardize what was straddling on top of me. Nick was right. I knew what decision I needed to make, and that decision included going against my self-destructive tendencies. I had to fight the urge to fall back into the Brit, and instead appreciate the sheer perfection that was sliding down onto me.

I couldn’t fall back. I wouldn’t. I decided.

“Oh fuck,” I cried out at the sensation of having my cock enveloped by Nick’s tight ass. I couldn’t remember the last time my cock had fit inside of someone so seamlessly. There was a little resistance, about as much as you’d expect from a guy that didn’t get fucked on a regular basis. But Nick pushed himself down onto me with the fortitude of someone who wanted it… who wanted it badly.

And I did everything I could to oblige.

As he made his final descent onto the length of my dick, I pushed my hips upwards, slowly, to meet the depths of what was inside of Nick.

“Oh fuck,” he echoed my sentiment, leaning forward so that while my dick was all the way inside of him, our chests pressed together, and our lips met. I pushed Nick’s hair out of his face as I sucked hard on his tongue, involuntarily bucking upwards again, driving myself deeper and deeper.

Our rhythm was magical. I felt every inch of Nick’s ass on my cock. It was like sticking my hand in a glove… he was the perfect fit, and my body knew it.

We kissed as I made love to Nick, slowly, pulling my pelvis up and down to meet the thrusts of Nick’s own hips riding me like a mechanical bull. I pulled him in, not wanting to let him go. Ever.

“Love isn’t boring,” Nick whispered, panted, into my ear. I could feel the back of his neck growing sweaty as he held me tight. My hands caressed every inch of his skin, pulling him as close to me as two men could possibly get. I sighed, pulled my waist up again, and immediately filled him up.

As I stretched Nick out, and as our pants turned to grunts, and our grunts to guttural baritone screams, our pace quickened. I felt Nick riding up and down as if he were on a mission. A mission to break me of my instincts. A mission to reverse what I came naturally to me- running. A mission to anchor me, keep from sliding back into to the unknown. A mission to make me embrace the love that was right there on top of me.

“I’ll never bore you, Corbin,” Nick cried as I thrust into him. He pulled himself up and straddled me, his hands on the sides of my chest. We locked eyes, and I could see myself in the reflection of Nick’s face. He smiled at me. “I’ll never bore you.”

I smiled. It was a promise I could use. ‘I love you’ was cliché. It was what it was. ‘I’ll be there forever’ was pedestrian at best. ‘Forever and for always’ could make a guy like me vomit.

But his commitment to keeping things interesting, as deep as his commitment to riding my cock like a professional, meant that Nick knew me. He understood me, my fears, my anxieties. He knew why I was after the chase so much. He knew why I’d rather throw myself at a possibility, risk the hurt and the pain. He knew why I needed to be in charge, why I craved the attention of those around me, why I thrived on the pursuit… the pursuit of men, power, stability. It was the pursuit that turned me on, and Nick knew it.

He knew me. And he knew that in order to keep my interest, he’d have to be interesting. It was a promise I could take to the bank, and as I watched Nick’s chest heave, his head roll back, his eyes circle the inside of his brain, and his hand clutch my chest, as I listened to his breathing quicken and his sighs deepen, and as I witnessed him shoot a string of cum across my chest from his impossibly hard cock without so much as a hand on himself, I knew that he meant his promise.

I’ll never bore you.

Nick was the kind of guy that you could be with for years and not get bored. He was the kind of guy that thrived on keeping things interesting. He was a good guy, a solid guy, a guy who played all of his cards, and wore his heart right on his sleeve.

He was also the kind of guy whose heart, right there on his sleeve, was so easily broken.

I tried to push that thought out of my mind as I stared into Nick’s eyes, let out a cry I was sure could be heard on the other side of the frat house, and came deep into his ass.

The orgasm felt like it lasted forever. Every inch of our connected skin felt like it had been lit on fire. Every nerve in my body was awoken, alive. Every breath was deep, thrilling. I heaved, Nick climbed off of me and collapsed, and within seconds of coming, the two of our lips met, and I felt like I had been lifted off the bed, and transported to the greatest place on earth.

“Oh god, Corbin. That was amazing,” Nick sighed. He ran his hands across his face and into his hair, letting me go, and lying on his back. “Oh fuck!” he breathed.

I watched him as my own orgasm subsided, my own toes uncurled, and my own breathing returned to normal. I smiled at Nick, indicating that I didn’t quite have the words to express my shared sentiment.

“We’ve got to do that more often,” he smiled, pulling himself back up and kissing my sweaty neck. “Wasn’t that amazing?”

I smiled. “That was beyond,” I replied convincingly, pulling Nick towards me, and kissing him deeply. I knew the day would come when Nick Persons wouldn’t suffice, promise or not, but instead of dwelling on that feeling, I reveled in the moment, kissed Nick, and allowed myself to be transported.

Eight hours, two make outs, and two loads of cum later, I woke up in Nick Person’s sticky bed with a start.

“What time is it?” I asked, looking for my cell phone. I reached down for my pants, scratched the crud out of my eyes, and realized I had less than twenty minutes to get back to Chi Beta, get dressed, and make it to the frat house library in time for the first mandatory rush session.

“Where are you going?” Nick asked groggily as I swung my feet out of his bed and jumped into my clothes.

“I gotta go to a rush workshop,” I croaked. Nick sighed and rolled over onto the spot on his bed I had just occupied. I pulled the first shirt I found over my head, leaned in and kissed Nick on the forehead.

“Have a good day please,” I said softly, kissing him again on the cheek before pulling his sheet over his naked body, and looking at him one last time before I headed for the exit.

“Corbin,” he called as I made my way to the door. I stopped and turned. “I don’t scare easy. I want you to know that.”

I smiled, and wondered what it was about Nick Persons that made him want to invest in me. He could have had anyone he wanted, and yet there he was, wanting me. As much as I loved the chase, I thought, was Nick the kind that loved fixing the broken? Was I his latest project? He knew guys like me, he’d said, and for whatever reason I had yet to discover, guys like me turned him on.

I made it out of Sigma Chi unseen, but I couldn’t say the same for my traipse into my own home. I used the back landing, and as I rounded the corner to my room, holding my gym bag and wearing the clothes I had last been seen in a day earlier, I ran smack dab into Hutch, coming out of the shower with his navy blue monogrammed towel wrapped around his waist.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, making every correct assumption he could from my state of appearance.

“Don’t start.”

“You know it’s rush, right? Whoever you’re fucking, unless he’s an indie, is the enemy for the next seven days. You get that right?”

“Trust me, we aren’t cross rushing anyone on Nick’s list,” I shifted my weight, eyeing my door, and wondering how I could smoothly get around Hutch and into my bedroom. I could feel the crystallized jizz on my person, and I wanted desperately to hop into the closest shower and wash it off.

“You better be right. If any of our guys go Sigma Chi, I will murder you myself,” Hutch threatened.

“Noted. Is that it? I need to change before the first session,” I said, sidestepping Hutch and making a play for my door.

“Actually, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Can it wait until I’ve showered? And brushed my teeth?”

“It’s kind of important, and we kind of need to discuss it before the rush session tonight.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. My mind raced, immediately going to the worst case scenario. Was it about Lee? Had Lee found out what I’d done at the EC meeting and gone rogue? Was it about Dom? About all of the pieces I had moved around? Had my frat house of cards come crashing down?

“Okay,” I said, not showing my intense anxiety. I blinked, centered myself, and led Hutch into my bedroom.

“What’s your strategy on the freshman PCP?” he asked the second my door was closed behind us. I hadn’t even put my gym bag down yet, and instead of answering him right away, I crossed the room to my closet, put my bag down, and pulled my shirt off.

“What do you mean, strategy?”

“I mean, you knew that Lee was our ticket to controlling the freshman vote in the EC, and you completely threw that plan under the bus.”

“No one ever discussed a plan with me,” I answered vaguely, pulling my sweats down and facing Hutch in just my boxer briefs. I grabbed a towel and flung it over my shoulder, indicating that I wanted this conversation to be as short as possible.

“Do you have ears? Everyone in our class was ready to nominate him yesterday until you came along with how unstable he is.”

“I’m not aware that I lied about anything when it comes to Lee.”

“Which is why I need to know if you have a plan. And if so, I need to know what it is.”

I narrowed my eyes and took a defensive step towards Hutch. I was still in the process of waking up and hadn’t really prepared for this conversation to take place this morning. Truthfully, I didn’t have a plan yet, but Hutch was right, and hearing him say it confronted me with that reality.

“Do you think I’d really dismiss Lee without a contingency?” I asked, trying to buy myself some time. “What’s your big concern?”

“The concern is that Artie and David are both closest to the senior class. Even though the EC didn’t come to a consensus yesterday about who to back, they will soon, and as it stands, with either pick, we’re up shit creek.”

“Seniors graduate, you realize,” I said flippantly, crossing around my couch to avoid any further eye contact with Hutch.

“But philosophies don’t,” he replied sternly. I was surprised at how poised and aggressive he was being, and then I remembered that I had derailed any sort of predictability in terms of the PCP and their outstanding vote within the EC.

“The way I see it, Corbin, is we need to do some major schmoozing with one of the two guys that are being put up for Pledge Class President. And the way I see it, we have about a week to do so before their class sits down and picks.”

“Don’t worry about the PCP,” I assured.

“You realize it’s my job to worry,” he replied. I gave him a smirk, pulled down my boxers and reached for my towel.

“Dude, seriously?”

“What? I told you not to worry. I told you I need to shower. I’m handling this PCP situation. Regardless of who the EC picks for PCP, trust me. We will have the influence we want. Okay?”

I looked him square in the face, not acting like I was standing there butt naked in front of my pledge brother.

“You’d better be right. Clean yourself up, the workshop starts in five.” I watched Hutch take a deep breath, walk out of my room, leaving me little to no time at all to get showered and downstairs for what promised to be an arduous day of rush talk.

The first rush event was as boring as anticipated, and I will spare you the nitty gritty of what was discussed. In short, we got a workshop on how to interact with freshmen boys over the course of the formal recruitment week. We were told the schedule of cocktail parties and dinners that would take place on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, with us entertaining everyone assigned to us on the first two nights, and only those we invited back on Thursday night.

We discussed Bid/Ball and that every brother was required to attend on Wednesday night for as long as it took to decide which brothers we would be extending bids to on Thursday night.

We discussed the rules of the week, including no contact with freshmen outside of formal rush, no emails between brothers pertaining to rush, and no conversations about rush outside of the walls of the Chi Beta house.

Breaking any of those rules could result in expulsion from Chi Beta… period.

We were given recommended conversation topics to bring up with freshmen boys during rush dates, and we were told acceptable ways to hint at a possible bid without coming right out and offering one.

In the end, I felt like I was being coached on how to make it on The Bachelor or some other dating show that required you to be as fake as possible in the best way possible until someone vaguely mentioned that they might be possibly falling in love with you.

It was tedious, it was repetitive, and for some in the house, it was necessary. For me, it was the perfect time to tune out and break several of the rules by texting David Marcossi.

To David: When do you get back into town?

To Corbin: I’m back already. Hanging out with some of the other guys.

To David: Don’t tell anyone I’m texting you. Lol. I could get in trouble.

To Corbin: Are we not supposed to talk? Is that why none of the brothers are talking to us?

To David: You’ll get all of the rules tomorrow at the Inter-fraternity Council meeting when they tell you what Rush Week is going to be like. Me texting you like this is probably a no-no.

I put my phone away for a second to see just where we were in the workshop, and when I realized Dom and Hutch were still role playing an acceptable conversation between brother and potential new member, I tuned back out and went back to my illegal text conversation.

To Corbin: So if it’s illegal to text me, why are you doing it? Must be something important.

To David: Not really. Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor.

To Corbin: Shoot.

To David: Want to smoke out a little tonight? Before classes start.

To Corbin: I didn’t know you did that.

To David: You’ve smoked in my room before. You know I don’t disapprove.

To Corbin: Yeah, but I didn’t know that you partook.

Partook was a funny word coming from him, and I couldn’t stifle my smile. I looked around to make sure I wasn’t drawing any attention to myself. Everyone was either listening to the demonstration or nodding off to sleep. I felt safe, and so I continued to text.

To David: I started up again during break. Nothing major, just want to get one last bowl in before classes start.

To Corbin: Sounds good to me. I was worried about where I’d smoke up during this no contact period I guess we’re in.

That meant that he hadn’t spoken to any of the seniors since he’d been back on campus. That was a good sign, I thought. And if I could fill that void for him so close to pledgeship starting, there was a solid chance that I’d be able to draw his trust even further. I finished our conversation with this clincher before I put my phone away and went back to paying attention.

To David: You can always smoke up in my room, bud. As long as you bring enough to share. And don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.

To Corbin: Sounds good.

To David: Can I trust you?

To Corbin: Of course.

To David: Perfect. You can trust me, too. I’ll see you later tonight then.

I slowly put my phone away and caught Austin’s eye as if he was asking me what that was all about. I shrugged, crossed my arms over my chest, yawned like everyone else, and continued to listen.

The full day of rush workshop was split into two sections. The first one ended at four, there was a two hour break, and then we returned for a mandatory formal chapter meeting. This was when we discussed all things Bid/Ball, Bid Night, and Tear Night. The library door was locked so that no one, not a freshman, a girl, or even our house mom, could wander in. Everything discussed at formal chapter was meant to be confidential.

After the brothers recited the pledge, formal roll call was taken, and each brother was seated by rank, in order first by position, and then by class. Since Social Chair wasn’t a numbered rank within the structure of leadership, my vote on the EC didn’t get me any closer to the top of the rank order. Instead, I was sandwiched between Roberto and Sam, who probably wouldn’t have been to a formal chapter meeting if it wasn’t absolutely required.

The meeting began with Dom explaining how Bid/Ball would work. I’d heard the speech last year, but I could tell the sophomores were finally paying close attention. The brothers respected the rule of fraternity too much to discuss Bid/Ball outside of formal chapter, so this was their first taste of any specifics regarding the ceremony.

“Roll call will be taken exactly ten minutes after the last potential new member leaves the house. Any petitions for recusal should already have been submitted, therefore every brother is expected to be there.

The format will run as such: a potential new member’s name will be motioned for consideration. A second brother must second his consideration. At that point a simple verbal vote of the brotherhood will be taken to introduce that potential new member into consideration. If a freshman does not pass that initial step, his name will be stricken from the rush list.”

I had never heard of that happening to any freshman in the history of Chi Beta. Even the sketchiest guys on our rush list were at least given consideration. By the time formal recruitment had been narrowed down on Wednesday, anyway, it was only the guys with a strong interest that we’d be able to bring up during Bid/Ball regardless.

“Once a potential new member has passed that initial test, there will be a period of merits and demerits. Brothers, in rank order, can offer up to three merits and one demerit regarding the potential new member in question. If you don’t have proper acquaintance with a freshman, you may pass at this step and spend the rest of this time listening to what the other members have to say about a potential pledge you didn’t get to know during all of informal rush. There will be no interruptions during merits and demerits, and every brother will have the opportunity to speak at least once. Remember, if you are going to speak up, you must use all three merits, and you must mention a demerit, regardless of whom it is you’re vouching.”

This rule came into play if someone you strongly disliked was brought up for consideration. If you had something terrible to say about someone, you still had to pepper it with three nice things. The fun came in disguising your merits for someone, subtly throwing them under the bus with so called merits, and then reversing that bus with your demerit.

“In the event that you have more to add outside of the three merits and one demerit, there will be a period after every brother has spoken in which three brothers will be given the chance to make additional comments. Those brothers will be called upon by the historian, and will have ninety seconds to expand on their previous points. Please use this period judiciously and only to cover things that haven’t been brought up before. This is not the time for you to make your case in regards to a potential new member that you think may not make it past Bid/Ball. This is purely to expand on a potential new member you feel hasn’t been given adequate consideration one way or the other.”

I swallowed at this point. This rule was put into effect a few years before I was a pledge because, apparently, Bid/Ball used to turn into screaming matches between the classes. Formal chapter rules were thrown out of the window, and everyone felt the need to protect the guys they could see slipping through.

That hadn’t been much of a problem in recent years, as more brothers understood the need to cast a wide net of bids, but if a controversial freshman had managed to make it this far, this rule was put into place simply so that we only had to endure four minutes of fighting instead of half an hour.

Lee’s name rolled around in my mind as Dom explained this rule. I had threatened before, and now with his recent outburst and mistrust, balling him was a real consideration… and it was right around the corner.

“After this period has been conducted, a motion will be issued to pass a freshman’s name through Bid/Ball. Once that motion is seconded, the first senior in rank will take the black ball and either bid, ball, or trust your brothers, before passing the ball to his left. If a potential new member receives two balls, or the equivalent, he will not receive a bid at Thursday’s rush event.”

“How many TYB’s equal a ball?” a sophomore asked.

“Great question. It depends on attendance. With our quorum this year, Brian, how many TYB’s would it take?”

I watched my pledge brother do the quick math in his.

“Seven.” Seven TYB’s would equal one ball. It was meant to represent a fourth of the active brotherhood, so that fourteen strong, or one half of the house, could effectively ball someone without much reason. The other equation meant that one person who had enough reason to ball someone only needed seven abstainers in his corner to get rid of somebody.

The thing was, dropping the ball on someone was extreme. It wasn’t done lightly, and if you couldn’t justify it through merit/demerit, it was very inappropriate to do once the ball was passed. The other thing was, getting another brother to feel as strongly as you about balling someone was nearly impossible, no matter how much you disliked a kid. Getting another brother to TYB someone they didn’t particularly have strong feelings about either way was much easier. It was a sly man’s ball, and it was one that required extreme finesse to pull off.

Just as Dom finished up his explanation, I felt my phone vibrate in my lap. Roberto, who sat to my right in rank order, and who was on my right for our formal meeting, looked at me with a scowl. I shrugged and looked at my screen, wholly unconcerned.

To Corbin: Do I get to see you tonight? I want a redo of last night, Mr. Crowley.

It was from Nick, and it made me blush like a school kid reading a dirty note in class. I heard Roberto clear his throat next to me as I tuned out Dom and thought about a reply to my boyfriend’s sexy text.

I wanted nothing more than to sneak into Sigma Chi and fuck the brains out of the hottest guy in their house, but I knew Hutch would probably crucify me if I had a Capulet/Montague rendezvous at the beginning of rush.

Plus, there was the whole invitation I’d set up with David Marcossi to come and hang out. I needed to work quickly to get David into my corner, and after tonight, things with rush would move at a rapid pace. I’d worked too hard to get a vote on the EC to have it all mitigated by not seeing my plan through to the end, boyfriend or no boyfriend. Hutch was right, I had to protect the freshman vote for our class. For me, specifically. And after dropping Lee at the EC meeting the night before, I had my work cut out for me.

To Nick: I wish, baby. But duty calls tonight.

To Corbin: Do I want to know what this duty equates to?

I thought about lying to Nick. I didn’t want him to think I was being sketchy, but hanging out with a frosh on the night before formal rush started could be a major violation. I thought about lying, but I decided to trust him. I had bared my soul to him not twenty-four hours before hand, and honesty about Pete had been the best policy then. Why wouldn’t it be the best policy now?

To Nick: I have some last minute rushing I need to do with a freshman I want to nominate for leadership.

To Corbin: Some off the books meetings? I thought no contact was in effect.

To Nick: Are you going to tell Dean Coleman on me?

I looked up to see Roberto glaring at me from my right. I cleared my throat, and turned back to my phone.

To Corbin: Not if you make it up to me.

To Nick: Deal.

I smiled to myself, and exhaled.

To Corbin: Have fun tonight. Don’t think about my cock halfway inside of you while you’re rushing some freshman tonight.

I flushed red again and put my phone away.

“What the fuck, maricon? If I have to pay attention to this, so do you,” Roberto hissed. I rolled my eyes and waited for the meeting to be over.

Once Dominick had explained the intricacies of rush, and after all of the questions from sophomores who hadn’t yet been through a Bid/Ball were answered, we were dismissed.

I tagged along to dinner with the other guys, mostly because I was starving, and I thought it would look suspicious to go straight to my room and lock the door for the rest of the night. I made it a point to avoid Hutch’s eyes as we ate cheap Singapore noodles at the Chinese buffet across town. I knew he was freaking out about my plan for the freshman Pledge Class President, and I knew I couldn’t assuage his anxiety until after I’d talked to David Marcossi and assessed how easy it would be to influence his vote.

And at the same token, while my mind was dancing in circles on how I could get David to bend to my influence, I couldn’t help but think about Nick.

Everything about our night together had been perfect. From me topping him, to turning right back around and taking his beautiful, perfect cock inside of me. From our bodies meshing together like they were made that way, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting seamlessly together. From his promise never to bore me, that I was safe with him, that I could still experience the same excitement that I craved from chasing unavailable guys like Mike and Pete. I knew he meant it, and that’s why it was impossible to keep him out of my thoughts.

“Corbin, are you alive or should we call the stroke unit?”

“Huh?” I started at Roberto’s voice, and had to catch my chopsticks before they haphazardly fell out of my zoned-out hands.

“We were talking about beer pong tonight. In Hutch’s room. Juniors only. It’s about to get intense for the rest of the semester, and we were thinking about doing one last night just for us.”

I put my chop sticks on my plate, breathed in and caught up on the conversation that I’d been missing by thinking simultaneously about Nick Persons and David Marcossi.

“Um, actually,” I started.

“No fucking actually, maricon,” Roberto interrupted. I knew ditching the guys wouldn’t be easy, but I had a plan to put into effect, and a boyfriend to try to keep from creeping into my mind while I did so.

“I’m serious. I just… I have something I need to take care of before rush, and it’s very important,” I replied, turning my head and looking Hutch right in the face. I tilted my head, indicating that he knew exactly what I needed to take care of, and that I needed his help in getting Roberto and Austin off my back.

“Yeah, you guys, if he says he’s busy, he’s busy. Leave him alone.”

“He’s gonna fuck that little freshman, isn’t he?” Austin asked, stuffing his mouth with chow mein.

“Seriously?” I asked, flipping my head towards him. “You think that’s the only reason I would say no to beer pong with you guys? To get laid?”

“Absolutely, I do,” Brian added his two cents. “I lived with you for a year, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember living with you for an entire year and the closest you ever got to getting laid was hanging out with your best friend Jill while I was in the shower.” I raised my right hand and wiggled my fingers to emphasize Brian’s favorite sexual mate… himself.

There was a round of ‘oohs’ from the other guys as the burn into Brian sank in, and I expertly avoided telling them exactly what it was I needed to do that night.

In the end, the compromise was that I’d stick around for a couple games before sketching off, and I thought it would be best to show face before meeting with David. It gave me a chance to send him a text and arrange him coming up to my room.

“Come up the fire escape and don’t let anyone see you,” I texted him midgame, with Hutch and me partnered against Roberto and Austin. Brian and Abel were on deck, and Sam and Ben were up after them. Our entire class was hanging out, having fun, and drinking for one of the rare occasions all of us could be in the same room together.

And after an hour of fraternal love, I slipped out to “use the restroom” and instead walked straight into my bedroom next door.

“I thought you’d never show,” David said smirking at me from across my room. He’d made himself at home, sitting barefoot at the head of my bed, sprawled out like he owned it. His piece, grinder, and bag of weed were all nestled between his outstretched legs. He looked effortlessly handsome, if not young, in a grey hoodie and jeans. I couldn’t help but smile when I walked in and saw him.

“Did anyone see you come in?” I whispered, taking my own shoes off at the door and stepping towards him.

“No. I used the fire escape. Why the secrecy? And why the whisper?” he asked with an amused look on his face.

“Because you, my friend, aren’t supposed to be here,” I said. I sat down on my own bed, lifting his left leg and bending it over his right knee to give myself room next to him.

“Then why am I here?”

“I want us to spend a little bit of time together,” I answered assuredly, careful not to raise my voice above a confident whisper. Hutch’s room was right next door, and I could make out the faint sounds of the other guys playing beer pong and laughing. I didn’t want to draw any attention to my absence by making too much noise in my own room right next door.

“Why?” David asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I thought you said you trust me,” I answered simply, dodging what I could only read as his suspicion that I was so eager to hang out all of a sudden.

“I do.”

“Then let’s light this up,” I said with a smile, slowly reaching between his legs and putting my hand around his pipe, which wasn’t more than an inch away from his crotch. I didn’t break eye contact, not for a second, and while I picked up his piece and handed it to him, I made the deliberate effort to pull my hand across the fold in his jeans, just above where his resting dick should have been.

As my hand barely grazed the denim, I felt a sting travel from my fingers all the way to my heart. I swallowed what could only be described as a pang of guilt before it made its way past my heart, and into my head. As long as I didn’t think, I could do what needed to be done. As long as I didn’t consider Nick Persons, I could go through with what I’d planned to do since Hutch cornered me earlier that day.

I watched as David smiled. It wasn’t a big smile. It wasn’t overly eager, but fairly demure. It was like he was smiling as he read the lines on my face, my expressions, trying to see past them to the thoughts in my brain. But he maintained his smile, all while reading my face.

I knew the smile. It was my smile. Effective but not revealing. Warm without giving away too much.

I transferred the pipe from my fingers to his, lingering for just a second when our hands met. It was intentional. It was calculated. Clinical, I thought. This was business. Business with a smile.

“Should we go to the window?” he asked, breaking the ice.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” I said, not standing up, but instead scooting in an inch closer to where he sat. I felt his foot vibrate a little and then settle just on the other side of my resting hand.

“It’s your room,” he replied.

“What’s mine is yours, David Marcossi,” I replied with a smile. Bigger this time. Even more intentional. Giving away another inch of feeling. Drawing him in.

I watched David light the pipe, bring it to his lips, and inhale. The orange glow of the weed embers framed his face as he sucked in, smiling at me the entire time. And then it was my turn.

It was a trick I had used countless times in high school and my freshman year here at OD. It was a trick that worked 100% of the time I employed it, and I planned on going back to basics once again. I needed David to buy into what I was selling him if he was going to replace Lee as my freshman puppet at the last minute. I had no room for error. I’d come too far to reinvent the wheel then. And so I took the piece from his hands, brought it to my lips, and then hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just… I’m not very good at this,” I sighed. “Here, would you light it for me?”

I leaned in to David, handing him his lighter back, and bringing his pipe to my lips. He smiled knowingly, as if it was the oldest trick in the book, but then he obliged. He lit the weed, I inhaled, and let the smoke fill my lungs.

I sat back, exhaled with a sigh, and then deliberately started coughing. It wasn’t a loud cough, or a bellow like someone really affected by smoke may have done. It was a cough that wouldn’t penetrate the wall that Hutch and I shared, but was enough to draw concern from David, who thought he’d seen the end of the oldest trick in the book.

“You okay?” he asked as I patted my chest and coughed again.

“Yeah,” I heaved. “I guess I wasn’t ready for a hit that big.”

I let the word linger. I looked down at David’s leg to draw attention to how close we were sitting, and then back at his face. This time I gave him a second to let him read the lines in my face. The expression in my eyes. The smile.

“Maybe I should give you a shotgun,” he suggested.

Hook. Line. Sinker, I thought.

“Yeah, maybe so.”

David brought the piece to his lips and once again inhaled a chest full of smoke. Again I watched the embers bring a glow to his face, and again I watched as that glow was replaced by a waft of smoke. He lit the pipe again, sucked in again, only this time he puckered his lips and leaned into my face.

When I was freshman, I’d had a huge crush on a senior theater major. He’d invited me over, smoked me out, and when I really didn’t know how to smoke, I asked him for help. I had done this entire routine then, only out of necessity. And later that night, that senior was my first college lay.

David slowly pressed his pursed lips onto mine, and before I knew it, my lips were open and a wave of cool smoke rushed into my mouth. I inhaled, and in doing so, couldn’t help but bring my tongue forward to push the smoke back into my throat. It happened every time. I pulled my breath in, pushed my tongue out, and for just a second, maybe two, met David’s tongue as he pushed the smoke into my mouth.

It was enough to jolt us both, and while I feigned surprise, I didn’t move. I waited for David to make a move, and while I felt him flinch, I didn’t feel him move. He didn’t pull back, and with that, I stayed put.

It wasn’t a kiss. I wouldn’t say that I kissed David Marcossi that night. I had a boyfriend, after all. This wasn’t about a kiss. It was about trust, I told myself in that moment. Telling myself that allowed the guilt to be swallowed just like the smoke, deep into my chest, enveloping my heart, but never reaching my head.

“Better?” he asked, barely pulling back. I opened my eyes, put my hand on his chest, and nodded.

“So much better,” I replied. I brought my shoulder to my cheek as I savored the smoke, let its effects course through my bloodstream, and coquettishly looked at a freshman boy who I was sure was wondering what exactly was going on.

And then I stood up, crossed to my desk next to my bed, and sat down at my desk chair.

It was an abrupt departure from our intimacy, and it was exactly how I wanted it. I wanted David to feel the chasm I’d created between us, and in the next seven days, I wanted him to fill it. I wanted him to want me, and that meant I had to break our contact as quickly as possible. I wanted David in my corner, needed him there if I was getting rid of Lee, and so I let our non-kiss linger as I walked away from him.

And so with that, and a little small talk about the coming week, I let David Marcossi go back to the dorms and wonder exactly what that non-kiss was about. I could tell I’d taken him off guard, but I knew by the way it took me a few minutes to get him to leave my room that my plan to pull him in had worked.

I sighed, thinking about a million things and nothing at all. I thought about Nick and the turn that I’d made that day. Choosing him over the Brit was a big step for me. I chose the easy path, the road more often traveled. My entire relationship history was built on chasing unavailable men, and hearing Nick call me out on that jolted me.

And I chose him.

I chose the guy I knew I needed. I went with my head, and convinced myself that my heart would eventually follow.

And then I felt the familiar vibration of my cell phone next to my left ear as I tried to sort through my thoughts and fall asleep.

I thought surely it was Nick, texting me something racy about making it up to him again. I thought maybe my boyfriend was texting to tell me goodnight, so that his was the last face I pictured before I went to bed. I smiled to myself, content in a relationship for the first time in my tenure at OD.

And so I turned, picked up my phone, and read a message that was definitely not from my boyfriend.

To Corbin: We need to talk. ASAP.

I swallowed. Sat up, and took a deep breath.

From Corbin: Okay. Come over.

I hit send before I had a chance to think about what I was doing. And in that moment, in those few seconds it took me to reply to a text message I wasn’t expecting, a text message that had the implication to derail everything, I pushed the thought of my perfect boyfriend out of my head, and resigned myself that the road most often traveled wasn’t so easy after all.